


a little help

by neros_violin



Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Insomnia, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 11:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neros_violin/pseuds/neros_violin
Summary: Sometimes it's the little things.





	a little help

**Author's Note:**

  * For [galaxysoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxysoup/gifts).



> My giftee requested a slice of life fic for the cluster, and while this is the idea that I ended up writing, I had about a billion of them, so thank you, giftee, for the fun prompt that allowed me to spend a lot of quality time with these wonderful characters, doing a whole lot of regular stuff.
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and Happy Yuletide!

“What are you doing?”

Capheus jerks reflexively, knocking his elbow on the van’s chassis and dropping the screwdriver on his nose. He squeezes his eyes shut for safety’s sake and to reach for his patience. _It is a miracle_ , he reminds himself. _It is a wonder, to experience such a connection in this world._

He opens his slightly watering eyes to peer into the bright, wide blue ones that appear inches from his face. There’s hardly room for two grown men under the van, but somehow their connection has bent space to fit them shoulder to shoulder.

“Sorry,” Wolfgang says, though the expression on his face is anything but; the corners of his eyes and the corners of his lips curl with amusement he doesn’t bother to disguise. He appears relaxed, yet Capheus feels compelled to ask.

“Is everything alright?” The bond between the members of his cluster is strong, but his experience so far has been that his brothers and sisters only appear in the presence of strong emotional need. _Fight, flight, or fuck_ , he thinks, though that isn’t the kind of thought he would normally have. The presence of the others, the force of their personalities, the peculiarities of their beings, all of it is already changing him. 

“You tell me,” Wolfgang says, folding his hands over his bare stomach. “I was just doing some cleaning and looked up to find an engine in front of my face.”

For a moment, the heat of dirt under Capheus’s back fades and plush carpet depresses under his feet. The soft hiss of climate controlled air replaces the chatter of voices and car horns and construction noise. Wolfgang sits shirtless and barefoot at a small table, a cigarette dangling from his lips, pieces of a gun spread out before him like playing cards. Capheus looks out the window and sees endless skyscrapers against an overcast sky and-

Oppressive stillness and the smell of motor oil, sweat beading on his skin. “Cleaning, you say?”

“You obviously understand the importance of maintaining your equipment,” Wolfgang says. “We just have different tools.” He fumbles around in the low light, finds Capheus’s screwdriver and hands it back to him. “I don’t know anything about engines, and since I’m here, I might as well learn.”

Capheus feels the press Wolfgang’s shoulder against his. It goes unspoken that neither of them understand _why_ he is here, but already Capheus knows enough of Wolfgang to grasp that he has likely considered the question and finding no answer has decided to be pragmatic about it.

This makes Capheus smile, and it is easy to explain what his hands are doing as he changes the oil, checks the spark plugs, frets over the condition of the timing belt. He’s just pointing out the stress lines in it when he feels a tug and there’s white everywhere, white lights and white countertops and people in white jackets.

Wolfgang is with him still, and Capheus follows his gaze, suddenly rapt and soft at once. _Ah_ , he thinks, as Kala looks up from a microscope and smiles brightly. “Hello,” she says, instantly warm and welcoming. A blush visibly crawls up her throat as she takes in the state of Wolfgang’s undress, but she does not look away.

Wolfgang frowns back. “Why are you still here?” Wolfgang asks. “It’s late.” He manages to weave both authentic concern and condescending paternalism into his voice, and Capheus sighs as Kala’s smile falters.

“We are just cleaning up to leave,” she says. “We’ve had a productive day, and there wasn’t a good place to stop until now.” Her eyes flash with warning and rebuke. Wolfgang looks somewhat chagrined for a bare second, and perhaps he means to apologize, but Kala’s next words have him scowling again. “But I do feel absolutely exhausted.” 

She yawns widely, and Capheus is suddenly aware of aching, heavy muscles, burning eyes, and shallow breaths, though it is only early evening in Nairobi and his body is used to staying up well past midnight. “I don’t think-“

Cool concrete and darkness, the scent of stale bodies, shadows that fall on the wall in vertical stripes, barely enough light to see the whites of Sun’s eyes as she stares at nothing.

Wolfgang trembles slightly in the damp air, still clad only in a pair of jeans. Capheus moves to stand behind him at the same time Kala moves to stand in front, sharing their warmth instinctively. Capheus scoots closer, drapes his arms around Wolfgang’s shoulders and Kala draws Wolfgang’s arms to circle her waist when it’s clear he’s hesitating to do so. He shudders, but Capheus thinks it’s the good kind, and with that taken care of, they look to Sun.

Her pallet is the last in a row of them, slightly set apart from the others, who have created little pockets of heat between them as they breathe deeply in sleep. Her head is pillowed on her forearm and she lays on her side. Capheus’s hip aches, and he knows that it won’t get any better if she turns on her back to relieve the pressure, it will just make her lower back flare with pain. It’s pointless to seek comfort, it’s pointless to do anything but lay here and blow oxygen onto the banked fire of her hatred for her brother, who she was supposed to take care of, she was supposed to-

“No,” Capheus and Kala whisper. Wolfgang stiffens in their arms, abruptly still as though he’s told his body that it is going to stop responding to the environment, that it must. 

“You have to sleep,” Wolfgang says. He breaks from Capheus and Kala to squat in front of Sun’s pallet. Her eyes roll to his, finally acknowledging their presence. “You have to sleep to stay strong. You can’t weaken yourself like this, not if you want to win.”

Her head snaps up and she glares, with enough venom in it that Capheus recoils, standing six feet away. “I know that,” she hisses fiercely, some of her frustration bleeding out and splattering on Wolfgang. He looks satisfied by that, and eager, as though he’s ready to provoke her into fury, like he thinks that will be _good_ for her, and Capheus will never understand this intentional cultivation of anger, the cutting, devastating edge of it that they use to sharpen themselves. 

Kala’s whisper echoes in the small cell. “Wolfgang, stop, she needs-“

“You don’t know what I need,” Sun spits out, and Wolfgang barks out, “Hey-“

“You _all_ need to be quiet,” Lito mumbles. Warm morning sunlight beams into the bedroom. Lito is laying in the middle of a massive bed, a black silk eye mask bisecting his face. He lifts the covers without lifting his head from the pillow, showing a lot of skin that leaves no doubt as to whether he’s naked on the sheets. Kala raises her eyebrows at Sun, nods her head in the direction of the invitation. 

Wolfgang shrugs and strips out of his jeans, red briefs on display before he climbs onto the bed, putting his back to Lito.

“Mmmm,” Lito hums agreeably. He tucks Wolfgang’s body into the curve of his larger one, snugging their hips together and placing a hand on Wolfgang’s belly. Wolfgang looks up at Kala under his lashes, and they maintain eye contact as she strips out of her lab coat and her dress, leaving her in a shiny white slip. She gets in the bed beside Wolfgang and holds her hand out to Sun.

Capheus can see her exhaustion warring with her isolation; she holds herself separate so that she doesn’t get used to comfort, so that it doesn’t weaken her further than it already has. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, the fatigue a burden that they can all feel, just as clearly as the iron will of her resistance to being vulnerable in front of so many strangers, who don’t understand-

“We aren’t strangers,” Capheus says quietly into her ear. His hands curl gently around her upper arms, and he guides her toward the bed. “We are you, and we will always be here when you need us.”

Sun stifles a sob, gratitude ripping through her with as much intensity as the exhaustion, and he can feel the warmth of her spilled tears on his own face. “Life is not just wild car chases and gun fights,” he says, still a little bit shocked and delighted and amused and scared that these are things his life contains now. “Sometimes life is this: we feel pain, and we are comforted, and in allowing others to give us comfort, we relieve their pain as well.”

Her body goes limp, tension snapping like cut strings, dropping onto the edge of the mattress. Her hair obscures her face, and he brushes it back enough to see that her eyes have finally slid shut. He swings her legs onto the mattress and gets in after her, curled inwards so that he and Kala bracket her like parenthesis. 

He is not surprised to feel another body press against his back. “I love slumber parties.” Nomi’s voice is husky with sleep, and the dim light of dawn is just beginning to seep into her bedroom. He sees a curving shadow that must be Amanita, feels a blanket drawn around his shoulders. 

“I never had one before,” Wolfgang whispers. He brushes his knuckles sleepily along Kala’s neck, and Capheus notices her eyelashes flutter. 

“None of that, it’s too early,” Lito mumbles grumpily, but his full lips curve into a anticipatory smile. “Later, though. Most definitely.”

Capheus tries to ignore the pictures that calls to mind, memories that make his groin heavy and his skin tingle and his heart sink a little bit, because Riley and Will had been there, the last time, and they should be here now. It saddens him that they can’t be. 

Nomi’s hand squeezes his hip gently in sympathy and Kala’s fingertips trail lightly over his face before settling back to lace her fingers with Sun’s.

Lito’s bed is sinfully comfortable, with sheets that are softer than anything Capheus has ever touched and fluffy pillows that cradle his neck and heavy blankets that shouldn’t be necessary but are because the air conditioning is turned so low. 

Sun’s breathing has started to go deeper and more regular. Capheus feels sun-warmed metal against his back as they lean against his van and smells cigarette smoke as they lounge on Wolfgang’s couch and hears the distant sounds of the city far below Lito’s condo as they lay in his bed and sees the rise and fall of Amanita’s shadow as they cuddle around her. They experience all of this at once, together.

And between one breath and the next, they sleep.


End file.
